White Blackbirds
by Bibble
Summary: Miss Lane Bryant is the Spanish girl new to Virginia City. Little Joe is the Cartwright who eagerly hires her on. Adam is the voice of reason. But what about the dark secret that could spin all their worlds into chaos?


Chapter One

If Lane's future wasn't so bleak, she might have actually appreciated the fresh air and the scenery around her. As it was, she wanted nothing to do with such a cruel world. She reached out and hastily drew the carriage's curtains, plunging the inside of the cab into darkness -- just like her soul.

Lane squeezed her eyes shut as the carriage began to slow. Had they really arrived so quickly? It couldn't have been an hour. As she heard the driver shouting greetings outside, she knew she was wrong. Lane took a deep breath. This was it.

It was now or never.

Lane opened her eyes as the driver opened the carriage door, and she blinked as the bright, morning light streamed in.

"You comin' out, miss?" the skinny, old man asked, stepping aside.

Lane nodded and eased herself down onto the dusty road. Ah, to have solid earth beneath her feet. Not that she had anything against the old man, but his driving skills couldn't exactly be considered straight and smooth.

Immediately, the dust in the air assaulted her nose, but she held her breath, refusing to sneeze. The street was teeming with people - most of them men, though a few women and children were scattered about. All their bustling about, combined with the wagons and carts being hauled through the street, had raised a thin cloud of dirt that Lane knew would take forever to get out of her hair. It seemed everyone in the area had come into Virginia City today, but it certainly hadn't been to greet her. Lane just wished they'd all go home and leave her in peace.

The young woman mumbled a brief thank-you to the carriage driver as he dropped her life on the boardwalk beside her. Lane hoisted the small carpet bag and brushed it off a bit before lugging it to safer territory away from the carriage. As she lifted her dark brown eyes, she caught the old driver running a grimy hand over his balding head and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. How could she be so careless?

Embarassed, Lane unclasped her coin purse. Fifty cents. That was all she had left -- and the driver was waiting impatiently for twenty-five of it. Stalling, Lane pretended to shift through many coins before finally drawing out half and placing them in the man's greedy hands. Lane silently wished the man could earn a living on someone else's money. The man shoved the coins into his pocket and hefted himself back up onto the carriage. Soon his rickety contraption was rolling on down the street, leaving a new cloud of dust in its wake. Apparently, Virginia City needed rain.

Lane shrugged the thought away and once more lifted her bag. Now what? A whole city awaited her, and she didn't even know where to start. But where could she start? Twenty-five cents wasn't going to get her very far. Lane pushed her dark hair back over her shoulder with her free hand and scanned the street before her. It wasn't long before her dark eyes fixed themselves on the hotel. If worst came to worst, maybe she could charm herself into a meal.

As Lane made her way across the dirt street, her mind wandered. Could Virginia City really provide her with a new life? Everyone had told her so, but things didn't seem to be working out real well to start with. And first impressions were supposed to be everything. Well, she'd show them. Lane Bryant would make something of herself in this town -- then she'd see who was laughing.

A man pushed his way out of the hotel door, and Lane stepped aside to avoid getting run down. So much for courtesy. She shook her head and slipped inside, setting her carpet bag down behind the stairs where it was least likely to be seen. The restaurant was already full. The room was abuzz with conversation and people were milling about between all the tables. Lane slipped in and out of the crowd, making her way to the counter where she ordered herself a lemonade. If she couldn't afford a full meal, at least she would get a drink with the last of her life savings. The tender behind the counter eyed her with confusion before sliding a tall glass down her way.

"Gracias," she murmured softly, taking the glass in her slender hand. She lifted it to her lips, allowing the cool liquid to bring relief to her dry throat.

"Hoss, duck!" Came a loud shout from across the room, followed by a loud crash.

Lane glanced up sharply, just in time to catch the legs of a chair being smashed against the restaurant wall. A young man in a black hat was nearly doubled over with laughter as he jumped back and slid across the top of a table. Lane was sure the yelling had come from him. Her gaze then flitted a short distance farther to where a rather larger man was picking a scrawny fellow up and tossing him into the very chair he'd broken.

Lane lifted a hand to her mouth and glanced over toward the tender, wandering whether he was going to do anything at all. It seemed he was. His plump face had contorted and creased as he pushed his way through the crowd. He lifted the scrawny fellow by his collar and dragged him toward the door. Shortly after, he booted the little man out into the street.

The other two men, the larger of which Lane guessed was 'Hoss', made their way toward the counter. She averted her eyes to her glass, not wanting to appear as if she were staring.

When the tender returned, he shook his head and lifted a glass to polish. "I thought we were rid of them guys," came his gruff voice.

The younger fellow who'd shouted, lifted his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Eh, you're never rid of their kind 'round here. They're always ready to pick a fight...right Hoss?" he asked with a chuckle.

Hoss nodded and reached for a wet rag to wipe his bloodied lip. "Yeh, I reckon, little brother."

"Hoss usually doesn't raise such a fuss, and aside from today, the hotel's a pretty peaceful place."

Lane lifted her gaze from her glass with a start when she realized the younger of the two was speaking to her. "Oh...I..." she faltered, unsure of how she was supposed to answer. She was coming to hate first impressions.

"Forgive me, Ma'am," he held out his hand, "my name's Joe."

Lane hesitated a moment before shaking his hand. "Lane," she stated, returning her eyes to her drink.

Joe's brow furrowed slightly and he cast a quick glance toward Hoss, who watched on in curiousity. "Lane? That's kind of an odd name for a girl, ain't it?" He leaned casually against the counter.

Lane refused to allow herself an irritated sigh when it was obvious that this young man had no intention of having a brief conversation. "Mine name is Elena Bryant. Lane is short for Elena...which is a girl's name."

"Well, it's certainly a pleasure to meet you, Lane." Joe's frown turned into a lopsided grin as he leaned a bit more suavely onto the counter. Now that the girl was speaking, he could pick up a definite spanish accent in her words. Though, her dark hair and tanned skin should have given her away from the start. "Are you staying here in the hotel?" he asked.

After sipping from her glass, Lane hesitated again. "No."

"You have a place around here? I don't reckon I've seen you around before."

"No," she ventured again, desperately trying to come up with a way to change the conversation.

Joe frowned, confused. "So where are you staying?"

"No where," Lane spun her glass around slowly and quickly added, "for the moment."

Hoss cleared his throat and tossed the rag back to the tender who caught it with disgust before firmly placing a glass of water in front of the burly man. Hoss took a gulp of it, averting his attention from the conversation.

The pieces of the 'puzzle' were starting to fit together in Joe's mind as he studied the countertop beside him. The girl must have been the one arriving in the black carriage this morning. He'd seen it stop when he'd gone out of the hotel to run to the post office, but he hadn't seen who'd gotten out -- and from what he could tell, she was the only new customer inside when he'd gotten back. So, why didn't she rent a room at the hotel? Probably, the same reason she'd been riding in such a rundown carriage -- the cheapest in town. Lack of money.

"Well," Joe ventured carefully, "my pa owns a ranch not too far away from here -- the Ponderosa. We have an open room if yer interested. Wouldn't cost you a dime."

Hoss nearly smacked his brother upside the head.

Flustered, Lane turned her glass about again. "No, thank you, I don't want any charity."

"Oh, it wouldn't be charity!" Joe recovered quickly. "You could help Hop Sing in the kitchen. He's our cook, and he's been getting short on help these days. You'd even get paid."

The opportunity leapt up at Lane, and she nearly smiled. Of course, she'd never allow such eagerness to show on her face. Here was a chance to earn something for herself. And she'd have a place to stay. How could she say no? After pondering it for a few moments, she gave a slow nod. "Alright, I'll come." Perhaps it was one of her hastiest and most foolish decisions, but Lane finally had a chance to do something for herself, and she couldn't say no.

Joe's face brightened, and he rested a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Great! We'll be glad to have you on board," he paused. "This here's my brother Hoss. You'd never know it 'cause he acts like such a big buffoon. Sometimes I wonder how I got to be the only civilized one in the family." Joe breathed in sharply as Hoss elbowed him in the ribs.

Lane nodded a greeting, then glanced toward Joe. When he spoke of family, she arched a brow warily. "What about your father? He won't mind that you've invited a complete stranger into your home?"

"Nah," Joe shook his head. "He's been trying to find help for Hop Sing for the longest time. He'll be grateful for the addition."

"Speakin' of pa," Hoss spoke up, pushing away from the counter, "he'll be expectin' us home pretty soon. If you're comin' with us," he said to the lady, "we'd best be on our way."

Joe nodded and tipped his hat forward on his head a bit as he scanned the room. "Where are your bags? Hoss and I'll carry 'em out to the wagon." He stepped forward and stuck his thumb through his belt loop.

A bit embarassed, Lane waved her hand toward the stairs. "I just have one...it's over here." She stepped away from the counter, her dark brown skirt swishing at her feet as she weaved through the crowd and retrieved her carpet bag from where she'd hidden it beneath the stairs. She was a bit surprised as Joe immediatly scooped it from her hands and glanced back toward Hoss. "Wait'll we tell Pa we got us a new cook. And a right pretty one, too."

"Now, don't go kickin' Hop Sing outta the kitchen just yet, little brother." Hoss chuckled. "I'm sure this little lady wouldn't wanna be cookin' alone fer all us hungry men," he patted his stomach.

Joe laughed in return and stepped forward, holding the door open for Lane. Quickly, she stepped through it and out onto the street. Joe continued to babble on, telling her of this and that as he unintentionally shut the door in his brother's face. She really didn't care to hear his stories at the moment. All Lane wanted to do was take a hot bath and sleep for a week. Though she knew the latter would never happen, she longed for the moment when she could sit down in a comfortable chair -- if even for a few moments. Though Lane would rather have disappeared and gone to hide, she lifted her chin proudly. If only the others could see her now. She hadn't been in town an hour and already she'd found herself a job. But for the moment, Lane set her jaw firmly, focusing on following Joe down the boardwalk and trying to keep his stories straight.

Back at the hotel, Hoss pushed the door open with irritation and raked his fingers through his hair. "Little Joe!" he hollered, jogging to catch up with them. Then he mumbled, "Next time I'm goin' to town with Adam."


End file.
